A Deadly Mistake
by TorchwoodFallenAngel
Summary: One tiny little mistake. That's all it took. That's all it ever takes. Wincest


This is...Well, to be perfectly honest, I don't really know hat this is. All I know was that a very specific idea that if reveiled now will spoil the entire story embedded itself in my mind and took me on a whirlwind ride through the strangest story I have written so far. Oh well. Hope you enjoy it anyhows!

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><p>"Come on Dean, come on."<p>

Sam is fidgeting in the Impala, fingers dancing along the door handle, the dashboard, his legs, in a fraught, nervous flurry. Dean has only been gone five minutes but that's five minutes too long. With a shapeshifter around who knows; five minutes could be the difference between a dead monster and a dead older brother. There is a shout from the other side of the street and the next second Dean is hurtling over the road, panic on his face. Sam leans over and opens the car door hurriedly, allowing Dean to slip in and frantically start the car. He sneaks a glance at his brothers chest and, yes, there it is; the amulet.

"Dean, what's wrong? Did you get it?"

They are hurtling down a road leading out of town, paying no attention to the fact that they should be going back to the motel, not leaving town. Dean glances at Sam, a hunted look in his eyes.

"No. It's coming Sammy, it said it was coming. For _you_. Sammy, it knew about you. It doesn't want the mayor, or the mayor's family. It wants _you_."

Dean's voice breaks at the end of the sentence and Sam frowns slightly. This thing must have scared Dean something bad.

"Dean, Dean are you alright?"

Dean suddenly pulls off the road, making Sam scrabble desperately for a handhold. He looks deep in Sam's eyes and Sam flinches. There is something desperate, something horrible in his eyes.

"No Sammy, I'm not. You didn't…You weren't…What it _said_ Sammy."

Deans voice is wretched, pitiful.

"It said…disgusting, filthy, horrible things Sammy. About you Sammy, about what it wanted…what it wanted to _do_ to you. It just kept on going on and on and on, spewing this filth, this…Oh, god…I couldn't…I can't let it have you…"

Dean crumples in his seat, breath escaping out in a desperate puff.

"If I can't…If I let it…Sammy…I couldn't…can't…"

Sam does the only thing he can thing to do; he shuffles over, pulling his brother into a hug, supporting Dean as much mentally as he is physically. And to his surprise Dean hugs him back, burying his head in Sam's shoulder with a broken sob. This is not good. If this thing has the ability to break Dean as badly as this…

But then he can't think. Because Dean's breath is hot, too hot, on his neck, and his hands are wandering, touching where they really shouldn't be and then Dean's voice is warm and sinful and broken and devastated in his ear…

"Let me in Sammy…Please, let me in…"

And he's powerless to stop this, can't stop this, doesn't want to stop this and he tips his head back, allowing Dean access to his neck and he's kissing and nipping and there's not enough air in the car to breath and his skin is sweaty and hot and it feels like every single nerve ending in his body is going into overdrive and it's wonderful and wrong and he shouldn't be wanting it but he does…And he gives in.

He lets Dean have what he wants. No, what he needs. This is what Dean needs. Sam doesn't know where it's coming from but…but he doesn't care. Because he needs it as well. He's been waiting so long for this and to finally be allowed…Maybe he shouldn't be doing this, maybe they should stop but they want this, they need this and who is Sam to deny them both something they both need?

And somehow Dean has manhandled him onto the backseat and he's lying there, wanton as anything; legs spread as wide as they can go, shirt somehow unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders, effectively trapping his arms but why should he bother protesting when Dean is hovering over him with need and hunger and lust and want and desperation and _love_ in his eyes and his hands are everywhere and they're reaching for his belt and his zipper and Sam can't help the moan that slips out when his brother runs his fingertips over the overheated skin just above his waistband and maybe, just maybe, he should be wondering why the hell he is allowing his older brother to fuck him in the backseat of his car off an abandoned highway in the middle of the night when they should be chasing a shapeshifter that has already killed five people but really; why bother with small things like that when Dean is finally kissing him and it's wonderful?

It's everything Sam had hoped. It's bliss, Nirvana. His brother tastes of that cinnamon toothpaste he had insisted on buying because of the half-naked lady on the front and of black coffee and Sam swears he can taste a touch of honey in there as well and he pulls his brother even closer to him so that they're chest to chest and Sam's arms are round Dean's neck and Dean's hands are in Sam's hair and it feels like Dean is trying to suck all of the air in Sam's lungs out of him and he actually really seems to be succeeding and then those talented, wonderful hands are hurriedly pushing his trousers down around his knees and he wiggles frantically because he's more than happy to help with that and gasps in ecstasy as their lower regions brush together and he really, truly cannot wait another second and if Dean doesn't hurry up and fuck him god help him he will-

And then the passenger door behind Dean flies open and Dean is being pulled out and something is beating the fuck out of him and for a moment he thinks the shapeshifter has found them but then he realises it's not the shapeshifter. It's Dean. Or it's _a_ Dean. And there are two Deans rolling around on the floor, punching and kicking and scratching and one of them has an amulet around his neck and the either the one who has just arrived is the shapeshifter and the one who was in the car with him was Dean or…Or it's the other way round. He really hopes it isn't.

And then one of the Deans slams his fist into the other one's face and spits with a fury and venom that blows Sam away "You keep your filthy hands off my little brother you disgusting freak!" and pulls out a knife and Sam knows that now is the time to stop this before the wrong one dies and his brother ends up dead. And luckily, really, really luckily, he has a plan. A plan he hopes is going to work. He thinks it probably will; shapeshifters are not only perverted, they are really rather vain. And they are very willing to swallow bait without a thought for the consequences. So he pulls up his trousers and does up his belt and his shirt and runs his hand through his hair and jumps out of the car and takes a really deep breath. He only has one chance here.

"Hey, boys."

He really hopes his voice isn't too wobbly and for a moment he thinks he's going to have to call out again. But then they separate, both looking like they've been run over by a juggernaut. Then a bulldozer. Then a truck. Then a herd of buffalo. But he's not focused on that. He's focused on the fact that one of them has an amulet and the other doesn't and that one of them has a knife and the other one doesn't. And god he hopes he's right about this. So he walks over to the Dean with the amulet and no knife. They stare at each other for a few long seconds and Sam looks into the Dean's eyes and there's regret in there and pain and lust and anger. He kisses him. Hard. And the Dean responds willingly, one hand moving up to tangle in Sam's hair and pull him closer. From behind him Sam hears the sound of someone retching in disgust.

His heart breaks. It shatters into millions of little pieces in his chest and with the most horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach he reaches up and stabs the thing that he's kissing in the stomach with the knife that dad always made them keep down the back of the backseat. Because he knows, in his entire fibre of being, that Dean would never, ever have kissed him back.

So he stabs it again. And again. And again and again and again until he's sobbing in anger and fear and pain and the monster's body looks like a pincushion that'd been used once too many times. Because he should have known. He should have known. And then he's on his knees in front of this body, fingers scrabbling at the amulet around its neck and he wants to be sick, wants to run away, wants to curl up into a little ball and never talk to anyone again. Because now Dean knows. And there can be nothing worse than Dean knowing.

There are footsteps behind him and a hand on his shoulder and he flinches but doesn't pull away. Dean crouches down behind him and takes the amulet from his limp grip. He can hear Dean fastening it around his neck and he sobs. How could he? How stupid do you have to be? But Dean is there and he pulls Sam against his body and holds him. He just holds him. And Sam has never felt so broken in his life.


End file.
